From DC With Love
by TVFanoftheYear
Summary: "Did she move?" "Transferred...you didn't know?" Shane, Steve and the letter sent a year too late.
1. Dear Shane

I refuse to believe that Shane and Steve's relationship was all bad, and I think _Impossible Dream_ pretty much confirmed that. Here's my take on what McInerney/Marek might have been like pre-transfer, and how Steve finally came to send that birthday card. Enjoy!

* * *

Shane picked the spare door key from underneath a nearby flower pot and carefully unlocked the door. He really needed a new place to hide his spare key. She would mention it later-right now she wanted dinner, and he was making it for her.

As the door opened, a thick aroma of herbs and spices filled her nose, and while she hadn't remembered him ever making it before, she recognized the scents to be Indian food of some kind. It certainly wasn't what she expected, but if it was good and she could eat it, at this point it didn't matter.

"Shane? Is that you?" A voice called from the kitchen.

Shane kicked her heels off and hooked her bag on his coat rack before responding to his inquiry via her entry to the kitchen.

He loved to see her come gingerly around that corner. He only wished the circumstances under which it occurred were different, at least tonight. Nonetheless, he greeted her as normal.

"There she is," Steve announced with a smile, throwing a tea towel over his shoulder.

There were few things more attractive to Shane than a man in the kitchen, particularly in one as well equipped as Steve's, stainless steel appliances, a large island and a beautiful patio and dining area only feet away. And, of course, there was Steve, still dressed for the office in the green plaid shirt she had gotten him for his birthday, and a pair of khaki dress pants that fit him absolutely perfectly, preparing their meal.

"You know, in your line of work, you think you'd hide your spare key in a more creative way," she teased, leaning against the island opposite her chef for the evening. He briefly glanced up to catch her gaze before returning his attention to the burner, which he switched off.

"Which reminds me, you should move yours from under that loose piece of wood near the base of your front door-too obvious" he replied, spooning a small bite of his culinary creation out of the pan and holding it at eye level. "Come here, I need you to try this."

Shane stood there for a second, her jaw cocked in that way it did when she was caught red-handed and didn't want to admit it. She knew Steve enjoyed nothing more than calling her out on these silly and trivial things-the enjoyment went both ways. It was how they communicated.

Shane brought her attention back to the request at hand. The dish certainly smelled good-the taste surely had to follow. Shane obliged, rounding the island and taking the spoon from Steve's hand to try it.

"It's Chicken Tikka Masala," Steve explained as she squinted, as if making her final assessment before rendering a verdict. He adored when she did that.

"So spicy," she choked, handing him the spoon back, reaching into the dish dryer for a glass she could fill with chilled water from the fridge.

"I spent a little bit of time abroad in India when I was in college," Steve began apologetically, "Guess my tolerance is still a little high."

"Are you sure it was college?" Shane asked, taking another cleansing drink of water, her eyes briefly darting down to the glass before training on his like a laser.

Steve laughed halfheartedly, "It could have been."

She was testing him in that frustrating, maddening, but somehow irresistibly tempting way that made him want to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her into a kiss. It was a constant challenge for him to withhold information from her. Steve wanted so badly to read her in. Yet even as she tested the boundaries, she respected the constraints of being involved with someone like him. And it was for that contradictory reason alone he wanted to tell Shane everything.

Steve was exactly the kind of puzzle Shane liked to put together. He was handsome, educated, had a sense of humor she couldn't quite place her finger on, was charming to a degree she didn't think possible for a human being. Then again, it was likely that superpower that made him so good at his job-the one he couldn't talk much about. He had confided in her the duplicitous nature of his position with the United States Postal Service. He was an intelligence analyst, USPS was his cover, and that often meant being privy to things one couldn't discuss around the water cooler. On occasion it resulted in him being whisked away to undisclosed locations for unknown lengths of time to test his analyses. She deeply respected Steve for telling her the truth about at least that much. There must have been some risked involved-for both of them. And he took that extremely seriously.

"You want to have this conversation again?" Steve sighed, removing the tea towel from his shoulder and tucking it into the oven handle before making his way towards Shane, whom he strategically pinned in the corner between the sink and refrigerator. He rested his palms firmly on either counter, ensuring she couldn't escape.

Steve was patient with her. Shane was a strong woman, and he knew that. He also knew that being unreachable and absent was a less than ideal situation for the relationship he wanted to have with Shane. She already endured the days here and there where he seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet, only to reappear at her desk at work with flowers and a lunch or dinner invitation. This, he knew, would be much longer than that.

Suddenly the hunger that only seconds ago had ravaged Shane's stomach was replaced by a deep, persistent and, dare she admit it, familiar, feeling of hollowness.

"You've done this before," Shane declared, setting the clear water glass down on the counter just beyond where he had her pinned.

He was leaving. Again. And it was this strange dinner that gave it away. He tried to feed her Mediterranean last time he went away for an undisclosed amount of time to a location he couldn't reveal. Shane got it in her head that, because the meal was so unlike what they normally went for, he was trying to hint at where his travels were taking him. But when confronted directly, he denied it, even to her, who knew everything.

She wanted to be upset, deep down she was. But she recognized the deep sense of duty he felt to his country and to his work. It was those very things that made him so attractive. At the same time, she battled a nagging frustration with something about their relationship, about his absence, that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Its weight pressed greatest in these moments when she knew Steve was leaving her.

"How long?" She asked, crossing her arms and fixating her attention on her newly manicured toe nails as she waited for him to reply. He remained silent.

"Overseas?" She pressed, and he instinctively knew she was referencing the meal currently cooling on the stove. She was smart, and it was his message in a bottle to her. Steve remained stoic, but she was breaking his heart. Shane was forcing his hand in record time. As her eyes darted away, he wondered if this might be the final straw.

"Shane, look at me," he begged softly, tucking some of her hair behind her left ear, "I want to look into those beautiful eyes of yours for as long as I can, even if they are upset with me."

It was little things like this which Shane found herself frustratingly powerless to ignore. Steve could be terribly sweet and romantic, even when the situation was anything but. She looked up at him, something about his blue eyes and that half smile made him darn near irresistible-and he could tell.

Steve slipped an arm around Shane's waist and slowly eliminated what little distance remained between them, a kiss the only thing strong enough to express what he felt for her at that exact moment. And while she seemed hesitant at first to reciprocate, she slowly warmed up to it.

This was the exact thing she couldn't quite figure out about her relationship with Steve. The moment Steve kissed her, nothing else mattered. He completely erased any consternation or questions or anything, by simply pulling her into a kiss. She felt everything and nothing. And yet the simple fact remained that the minute he pulled away all the questions would come flooding back, culminating in the question that, in between the witty banter and the occasional serious conversation, repeated itself like a broken record:

 _What am I to you?_

The echo of the question rang hollow in her head. And while she typically found herself completely capable of eloquent self-expression, this was one question she simply could not find it within herself give life to by speaking it aloud. Was she afraid of the answer?

A wave of panic enveloped her as he pulled away, she could hear Becky in her head:

" _What has gotten into you? This Steve guy has you wrapped around his strong and extremely handsome finger…"_

And it might have been funny if it hadn't been Becky who said it. Her opinion of Steve had been high in the beginning, but waned as his absences became more frequent, and while she knew Becky had only her best interests at heart, she couldn't help but feel judged or pitied. But Becky was too much of a friend to tell her to her face-most of the time.

Steve had pulled away just enough to be piercing through her blue eyes with his own. He looked as though he wanted to say something more-something important. Shane could see the decision being made his eyes as the moment slipped away.

"Come on, let's eat. Dinner's getting cold and I've got your favorite wine chilling in the fridge," he said, almost as if nothing had happened and no bombs had been dropped.

As Steve began to set the table, Shane found herself frozen in that kitchen corner unable to move as the question echoed once more:

 _What am I to you?_

* * *

On to Chapter 2! _  
_


	2. Love, Steve

Enjoy the second and final chapter!

* * *

 _ **1 Year Later**_

He squinted once more at morphing text of the field report before him. As he pulled his reading glasses off his face and rubbed his eyes, he began to wonder just how long he had been laser-focused on the task at hand. There were no windows in his small bare-bones office, and the only indication he had of time was the manual clock- an inexplicable 30 minutes behind- threatening to fall off the edge his desk in the hurricane of folders that littered it, vulnerable to shattering into oblivion.

As Steve reached to set the old clock on more solid desk space, a minuscule red circle on his daily calendar caught his attention, standing out among all the black and white text that surrounded him. He pulled the square calendar towards him to see what the circle indicated.

 _April 30_

Like a knife, the date sliced through all the classified information occupying his brain and replaced all of it with the warm and familiar smile of a certain woman, who, when the work slowed enough to allow his mind to wander, seemed to consume his thoughts if he let her.

 _Shane's birthday-5 days away._

Steve didn't quite remember when he penned Shane's birthday onto that calendar, but there it was.

Then a memory hit him once more, as if it had only happened yesterday...

Steve hadn't thought much of the fact he couldn't get in contact with Shane by phone, it simply hadn't struck him as strange. But as he entered the Direct Line Operations hub on his first day back on US soil, roses in hand, it suddenly caused him pause. It wasn't until he came upon her desk that his fears were confirmed. He found her desk completely empty-no trace of her left.

As if perfectly timed to answer all the questions ravaging his mind, Becky Starkwell rounded the corner. He could feel a certain level of tension between he and Becky-his job allowed him to assess situations and dynamics rather quickly before even a word had been exchanged. And while he could conjecture about Becky's feelings towards him, it wasn't worth it to Steve in that moment.

"Did she move?" Steve offered, phishing for Shane's location. Clearly some personnel reorganization had occurred here.

"Transferred," Becky replied, taking no pleasure in delivering the news, despite any reservations she may have had about him. "You didn't know?"

"I was-," Steve began, realizing there was nothing he could say to cover the fact Shane was simply gone and hadn't divulged even so much as a forwarding address. Becky wasn't aware of the duplicitous nature of his position with USPS, so there was no point in asking if Shane had left him a message. There was no excuse why he didn't know of Shane's transfer.

"It doesn't matter now," Steve sighed, a million things running through his mind. He didn't know much, but he knew it didn't make sense to continue to stand there. "Where to?"

Becky seemed to hesitate for a second, as if she didn't want to tell him, but didn't know how to say that. As if she felt bad about the blow he already been dealt, but didn't want to give him any ideas or encouragement to go after Shane. Steve didn't know when he had made it Becky's bad side, but he figured after today he would have no need to improve her perception of him.

"Denver," she finally revealed.

"Thanks, Becky," he managed, grateful, despite not knowing what he would do next. She nodded, and he noted a hint of sympathy in her eyes, which he would only come to appreciate later.

Dejected, Steve turned around, allowing the roses to slip into the nearest trash receptacle. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and headed to the Pentagon for his previously scheduled debrief.

He remembered spending that evening fast-forwarding through his home security footage in the hopes that maybe she had come over before she left, leaving a message in a bottle for him like he had always tried to do for her. He saw the mailman, paper boy, a door-to-door salesman or two, but over the course of six weeks of footage he saw not a single trace of Shane.

Not long after that, Steve requested a transfer of his own, from the Clandestine Services to something permanent and stateside with the Department of Defense, rendering his USPS cover unnecessary any longer. If he had to admit it, the travel was wearing on him. But it was the fact Shane had seemingly disappeared that caused a check in himself that still lingered even a year later.

Steve shook his head, trying to bring himself back to the present. He didn't know what came over him, but seeing Shane's birthday on that calendar, knowing he had only a few days, made him finally decide to do something. It was at that moment he remembered just exactly how the red circle had made it onto his calendar.

Not long after Shane left, he was at the grocery store adjusting to the new normal of planning dinner for more than just a few nights here and there. The store was packed, and he could barely make it through the aisles. Attempting to make a beeline for the checkout, he utilized the nearly empty aisle of greeting cards and gift wrap. He had meant to simply blow through it, but a blue elephant caught his attention.

He stopped and gingerly pulled the card from its display, reading its text.

 _How could I forget your birthday? I can't forget anything about you…_

Steve realized that while he was away, he had missed Shane's birthday.

 _I missed it this year. I won't miss it again,_ He thought.

He chose an envelope and put the card in his basket, resuming his trip towards the checkout.

A year later, Steve was rummaging through one of his less-frequented drawers, remembering the card. And there it was, as crisp as if he'd only purchased it a few days ago instead of a year.

The card was blank inside. Where did he begin?

Did he tell Shane he had looked her up, found out she was in Denver, but couldn't find the words to tell her what she meant to him until he saw her birthday marked on his calendar a year later? Did he apologize for missing her birthday last year? Did he have any right to send a card at all?

Steve let a long sigh escape his lips, and leaned back in his desk chair till his gaze was fixated upon the ceiling tiles. The silence was deafening, the hum of a distant air conditioner the only challenger.

He could sit there all evening and ask questions, or he could do what he should have done long ago. Steve regretted the time that had already passed, he refused to let another second go by.

 _Dear Shane,_

 _I hope this card finds you well. It's your birthday-and I couldn't let the opportunity to celebrate the fact you're on this earth pass. I know how important it is to celebrate, because I know what it's like to spend a year without you-and it has done nothing but remind me of all the things about you I can't forget. Your laugh, your smile-I would do anything to make you mine again. I know this probably seems completely out of the blue, and perhaps you haven't given me another thought since you accepted that position in Denver. But I think about you all the time, and I just wanted you to know how I felt. I miss you. And Happy Birthday. Love-Steve._

Steve wondered what good it would do now. But since it was written and ready to send, he could at least know he had tried to reach out to her, even if he was a year late. He could only hope she would find it in her heart to give him another chance.

* * *

And you know the rest...the end :)


End file.
